


Enter Madness

by happyhaunts



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jervis is the Creep of Creeps, This Was Supposed To Be A One Shot, You Decide, and it probably won't be super consensual, and mentions of incestual relationships, and obvs there will be blood-related talk and "projects", anyway, bad summary edition:, but Alice is dead so, but I don't know if I should tick that non-con box just yet, but oh well, but you saw that coming now didn't you?, but...it probably will, creepfest for sure, creepy man looks for replacement sister, i guess, idk if this will turn out sexual or not, just know that the box might be ticked at some point, not really set anywhere in the Gotham-verse, sometime after that I suppose, there are dead girls okay, through a series of creepy methods and invasive experiments, underage maybe?, you are not his first subject
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 09:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11145183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyhaunts/pseuds/happyhaunts
Summary: The flowers may cover the smell, but they don't mask the horror.





	Enter Madness

You smelled flowers.

Not just flowers, but a whole forest. Oak, earth, and dew on grass – things that weren't exactly commonplace in your family's apartment. Now that you thought about it, the apartment wasn't typically so cold either. As you drifted closer to awareness, the sensation of goosebumps became prominent. Then it was the dampness of your dress. Then the hard ground underneath you. 

This was a park, wasn't it? One of those scenarios where a girl sporting a torn-up dress is found in the bushes by a couple of joggers, and you were the girl?

You opened your eyes, just barely, seeing a darkening sky hinting at dusk, and glanced around without moving your head. There was fog, and flowers, you were surrounded on three sides by very tall, very haggard-looking bushes. So far you were right about that, but these didn't look like any topiary you'd seen in a city park before. Some distance away, in the opening of the bushes, there was a large tree with a sign on it. Maybe it would tell you where you were. 

But first, a test: you bolted upright so quickly it took a moment for your vision to clear, as an action like that was usually enough to jar you out of a bad dream. This was all a dream, wasn't it? Your damp dress and goosebumps meant very little when the setting you were in was simply too strange to be real.

No such luck. 

With joints stiff and sore from laying on the hard ground, you push yourself upright. Well, your uniform doesn't appear to be in any ill condition or disarray, at least aside from being a little wet and dirty in some spots. That was...comforting? No, no it wasn't. Because someone still brought you here, and that someone's intentions were entirely unknown. Just because they hadn't violated you right off the bat didn't meant they weren't building up to something sinister. As you begin the short walk to the tree, your ears prick up at a bird beginning a little song, and you realize you don't hear any city sounds. No cars, no construction or coughing or chats. You look back up at the sky – no skyscrapers, no smog. Wherever you were, it seems likely far off from Gotham.

Since panicking never got a girl out of a murderers lair, you clench your fists and take a deep breath, continuing toward the tree. It sat in the center of a small clearing, with some rosebushes and a sundial – you might have found it pretty, or even romantic in any other situation. You took another look around, seeing multiple pathways lined with the same tall bushes you woke up surrounded by. Oh – it clicked - a hedge maze. These were the sort of things you thought were only found on old estates in the countryside and such. Cities? Not so much, although maybe they existed in the Palisades, which was just across the bridge.

You stand on gnarled roots and read the sign. 

_This Way_

The scrolling font was less than terrifying, but the words scream an obvious message of “it's a trap”. Yes, right this way, right into some psycho's hands, that's the way all right. Yeah, you think not. Another way then – there were plenty to choose from. Then again, isn't there only one way through a maze?

Whatever. It's worth a shot anyway.

First, the direction opposite of the signs instruction, but the pathway ends almost sooner than it began. 

_Wrong Way_

You turn around and attempt another, hopefully longer route. Perhaps now is about the time for you to start thinking about how you got here. More importantly, who brought you.

You remember going to school, band practice afterward, and a stop at the tea shop on your way home. That's where you found your day ended, because despite some probing, you don't remember ever actually getting home. The shop was just across from your building, meaning it happened between there and your own doorstep. All you were missing was five minutes.

Wait. The tea – it was free. The man in front of you had paid it forward, as did you for the person behind you. Drugs in tea? Anything can be drugged, really. There's a reason “always watch your drink” and “be wary of the drinks you accept” are among the first safety lessons you learn when beginning to navigate the treacherous waters of blossoming womanhood, because that advice is not strictly limited to alcohol. However, you had to admit, something as innocuous as a free cup of orange blossom tea hadn't exactly warranted the same amount of suspicion you would have treated a briefly unattended solo cup at a party.

Maybe it was time for that outlook to change.

But you still hadn't seen the man; he didn't stick around for thank you, or even walk past you on his way out. The only thing you could recall about him was his top hat. Eccentric dressers were of course very commonplace in Gotham, but you would have definitely remembered his hat following you around. Unless this was a completely random happenstance, he and his hat had probably been following you for some time. That's how these things worked – kidnappers would lie in wait, picking up on schedules and habits before making the big move.

_Go Back_

Dead end again. Panic was setting in now, as it seemed more and more certain that you had been snatched up by a stalking, drugging creep.

Breathe, breathe, breath. Just take another path.

This time, you choose one that stretches on for quite a bit further than the other two, but when you come upon a sign reading _That Way_ , it becomes clear that you had merely chosen an alternate route that converged onto the main path: the path he had meant for you to take all along. Suddenly, you wholly doubted the potential existence of a second exit – only other ways which would always lead right where he wanted you to be, so you may as well follow the signs and get this over with quicker.

Much to your gratitude, there is no top-hatted stranger waiting for you outside the maze. To the far right you spot a small house, ahead is an inviting gazebo strung up with lanterns and fairy lights, to the left is an unkempt, but still clearly empty garden. All around the plot of land is a forest. You walk around the empty garden and into the forest, because a dark wood full of hungry wolves would be decidedly better company than whomever might be waiting for you among the other options. 

As the Silent Hill chapter you woke up to disappears behind oak and maple trees, you hear a tapping.  
At first, you thought it was some rather rhythmic chirping, but as you kept walking, it turned into a very distinct ticking sound, like a metronome, or an old clock. Easy to ignore for a while, but it seemed to get louder. You walked in other directions only for the noise to follow, growing louder and louder until you vision blurs and you become disoriented. 

_Don't leave._

The voice in your head is equally loud as the ticking, and is pleading rather than commanding, but it is definitely not your voice.

_Don't leave._

_It's too dangerous._

_You'll die if you leave._

Wouldn't you die if you stayed there? Not that you could say what exactly had awaited you outside the maze (only that it had been presented to you in an unsettling fashion), but at least you could think without hearing voices and feeling like your head was about to explode. You stumble over roots and shrubbery, still somewhat blinded by the noise, now combined with the onset of night. The ticking begins to recede, though, stopping altogether once you reach the forests edge.

The gazebo looks even more inviting in the dark, the way a lighthouse does on rough seas, and it seems safer to sit someplace where you're capable of seeing all around you rather than going into a dark house with an unknown layout. Not that much safer, obviously, but still. You trudge over to it, while picking up every tiny sound you heard on the way. Animal noises, mostly, but that knowledge does surprisingly little to ease your frenzied mind.

After a quick inspection, you find the gazebo and the surrounding area to be empty, and cautiously walk up the steps. On the far end of the space was a small table with a rather festive spread – cookies, petit fours, jam tarts…and tea, but you had learned your lesson about accepting such items from strangers, thank you very much.

Although, you were pretty hungry. If you got too hungry, it would be hard to keep your wits about you. You needed your wits in order to get out of here, right?

By virtue of simplicity, the tarts looked the most innocent (and filling), so you smelled that first. Someone you knew told you that “edibles” - foods infused with drugs – had a very obvious smell to them, but you smelled nothing in the tart save for cherry. Just a bite – you would eat it very slowly, taking time to gauge whether it was affecting you in some way. 

That was the plan, anyway, but the tart was so perfectly small it was hard to stretch it into more than a bite or two. It was good. So good, it was hard to wait for another, though you figured you didn't actually need to wait very long, as whatever had been put in your tea must have taken effect almost instantly. You tried lemon this time, then raspberry, and again back to cherry.

“You never could resist the tarts.”

It's the voice from earlier – the one that was in your head – but it wasn't in your head now; it came from behind you. So much for the gazebo as a tactical vantage point. Somehow, you feel sheepish at being caught off guard like this, rather than terrified as you should be. You set the tart back down.

“I'm so glad I found you again, Alice.”

Alice. Alice? If one thing was certain, you were not an “Alice”, but something told you to bite your tongue rather than tell him he was wrong. This wasn't the time to test things such as his patience. Very slowly, you turn to him

A well-made suit, somewhat large teeth, that hat – truly, he was quite a character to take in.

The man stood as the foot of the stairs, smiling up at you rather benevolently. There is something wild about him – maybe it’s the tangled hair beneath his hat, or perhaps the way his dark eyes are shining – but oddly enough, you don't feel very threatened. Not just yet. His gloved hands are clasped in front of him and free of weapons, and he is tall, but a bit on the wiry side. 

You feel yourself flinch as he ascends the steps, drawing closer and closer, and freeze up when he encircles you in a hug. With your face pressed against his chest, you hear his calm, steady heartbeat. He smells of tea and smudged newspaper ink.

“Alice, Alice, Alice.” He coos, stroking your hair. You hadn't even noticed the leaves in it until now. “Still an adventurous little thing. You went in the woods, didn't you?”'

There is not one thing readable about this situation, but you choose to nod.

He tuts at you, like a grandmother to a child. “Never go back there, please? It isn't safe, you know.”

You nod again, still not trusting yourself enough to speak.

“Let's visit the garden before bed, hm?” He smiles brightly again, and takes your hand. Your gait is strait and stiff, the way it is when you start walking after being on the treadmill for a while, and matches his well despite his longer legs. The gate makes an eerie sound upon opening, and the garden is, of course, pitch, but he knows exactly where he is going, judging by how easily he finds his way to the lanterns.

As the area brightens, you notice the garden is basically half overgrown plants and half trashed furniture. There's are containers and mismatched chairs laying around, with broken cups and lamps and other things you can't make out nearly as well. He grips your hand tightly as he continues his round of the area, turning on each of the lights. Even when you trip over something, he keeps his hold. You take a glance back to inspect what tripped you.

It's an arm. A human arm attached to a dead human body. The man yanks you back up to your feet as you attempt to frantically scoot away from it.

Now that you had been alerted to the presence of one body, you spot the others as well – their limbs peering out of chests or shallow graves, in chairs or tangled in brambles. There is more than one set of clouded eyes staring off past you. The flowers may cover the smell, but they don't mask the horror. 

“I get so lost without you, Alice.” He notes rather sadly, while you count half a dozen girls, noting the curly, brown hair on each of the more visible ones. Hair like yours.

Like Alice's. 

The sudden certainty of death completely numbs you, but it's probably better that you aren't the blubbering mess you want to be right now. Maybe panicking and running was what got these girls killed.

His voice is soft and far away in your ear. “Don't be too put out about them, my dear. They were only pretenders, you have nothing to fear.” You feel yourself being led away. “I have a much better feeling about you.”

 _A much better feeling about you._ So he knew you weren't Alice after all, though your calm compliance had paid off in the respect that you weren't joining the “garden party” as a corpse tonight. 

Small victories.


End file.
